


Taking the Stage

by Xnami8



Category: No Fandom
Genre: Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Hearing Voices, Imagine your own character or self, Multiple Voices, Musicals, Stress, Voices in his head, even tho he has hair and eye color, fears, inner voices, just go with it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-22
Updated: 2019-02-22
Packaged: 2019-11-03 22:22:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17886209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xnami8/pseuds/Xnami8
Summary: Part 2 to Pep Talking a Mirror(..... shhhhh...... part 3 might be in the works...... shhhhhh.....)





	Taking the Stage

 

Taking the Stage

 

He was letting the voices get to him again. He had been good at keeping them away- or at least away for a few hours at a time. This time he wasn’t at home in his bathroom, he was at school. More specifically, he was sitting in the middle of the stage with dim lights on. His hand sat under his chin as he looked over his lines. Over and over again, line after line. Maybe a paragraph or two; there also would be some actions to perform too. He squinted again, his eyes tired of looking from word to word. He brought the hand that was by his chin up to his eyes- rubbing them. He was tired, having the past couple of weeks haunt him. Back when he lost control of himself to the voices and a mirror.   

Also- he was sick. He had a cough, stuffy nose and a sore throat.

_Why would you rehearse your lines when you’re not going to be able to perform them anyways?_ One of the voices taunted him.

_Its still important._ Another one reasoned.

A sigh escaped his mouth, his eyes shutting too. Everything was stressful- this show, the voices, school all together. And maybe he was overacting, maybe he wasn’t. He really didn’t want them to take over his actions again- especially at school. That would be bad- awful, horrible.

Cue him to cough again- this one worse than before. After his fit, he reached for his water bottle, getting a drink.

_See? You shouldn’t be preparing for this. You’re not going to be able to perform!_

“Shut up,” He mumbled.

_No, you shut up._

“Just shut up!”

_Shut up!_ The voice yelled again.

“Shut up!” He whined, annoyed with this kid game this voice was playing with him. The voice stopped talking.

The boy ran a hand through his hair, this was getting hard. Practicing his lines shouldn’t be this difficult. Everything was coming at him fast again. Or, to him, that’s what it felt like. God, he really needed to get control over these voices. He scooted back away from the papers, taking a few deep breaths. In and out, in and out.

_This is pretty pathetic, isn’t it?_ A different voice asked.

_Oh, what is?_ Another commented, joining into this conversation.

_This boy, here, can’t even practice his lines correctly._

_And he’s doing himself no good by being sick!_

_Probably won’t be able to perform his lines when the time comes!_

“K-knock it off!” He said in a whisper as he had curled into himself- his knees to his chest and his hands over his ears.

_Oh, look at that! He is so scared!_

_He can’t even control us!_ The voices taunted.

He really hoped he could get some control over the voices soon. He didn’t know how much more of this he could take. He wished that someone would be coming to get him so they could interrupt this attack in his mind. To get his focus on something else.

_What if his singing is as bad as he is trying to talk to people about all of us?_

_It’s not bad at all-_

_Oh yeah! I bet it’s terrible!_ Some of the voices started to laugh at him.

_We've heard his voice before, it’s not-._ But the voice soon faded out as the laughter and insults of the other voices came tumbling down.

He was trapped. This poor boy was trapped with these voices tormenting him constantly. He couldn't get away from them. He couldn’t get away from insults he knew weren’t even doing that much damage to him. He knew these insults were nothing- he could've ignored them. He could've. He could've tried harder to keep them away. To ignore. Or maybe even try to talk to someone about all of this.

But he didn’t; he doesn't.

Maybe he deserves this torment. He doesn't tell anyone because he thinks he deserves to be treated this way. To be constantly harassed by the voices in his head. To let them comment about every little thing. Everything that happens all day long. Going from how he should walk this way in the hallway to that. To keep his face neutral or in a frown or in a smile. That he's drawing too much attention because he decided to wear a different shirt than normal, or are you trying to do that? Are you trying to get the whole damn school's attention on you? Do you want them to know that you can’t deal with your own mental struggles? Hm?

Everything he did was pointed out as wrong. Nothing was correct, nothing he every did would be right. Or even good enough.

He was never good enough in this world.

_You will never be good enough._

"I'll never be good enough," He repeated lamely, his voice hoarse. Cue him to have another coughing fit. Before he could reach his water, they spoke to him again.

_See? Do you see that? You’re going to lose your voice at some point then you won’t be able to perform! Ha!_

_God, how pathetic will that be? You've taken all this time to practice over and over and nonstop. And what? It'll be for nothing? Oh, that'll be a nice laugh._

_I can see it now; you’re at practice and you barely get your lines out but then you go to sing and it just fades away!_ The voice laughed evil like at him.

"N-no," He squeaked out, drinking some more water. "T-that won't happen! I won't let it." The boy tried hard to convince himself of that. That everything would be fine.

But everything wasn't fine.

 

That is exactly what happened at practice just a couple of hours later. He barely got this line out before he didn't even complete the first note of the song. His voice was gone just like the voice predicted.

_Oh? So, who was right all along?_

_We were._ A few voices gathered to yell that at him.

He froze for a moment; fear clear on his face. He quickly changed that, making his face read that he was calm as his brain started to freak out. And, of course, the voices that were mean to him all started to attack him.

The director called for a quick break, in which the boy bolted off the stage and into the bathroom.

_Well what are you going to do now?_

_Surely you can’t continue._

_Yeah? What are you going to do now? You can’t perform your leading role!_

_I told you this would happen!_

"Stop!" He whispered, his voice barely making a sound as he looked down at the sink. The voices didn't say anything for a moment, never getting this reaction before.

_And you want us to stop what, exactly?_

_Oh- you know-_

_Yeah, would you mind telling us what the problem is?_

_Maybe we can help!_

As the voices taunted him, he could hear the distant laughter on the back of his mind.

"Stop, just stop," He tried to plead, but his voice failed him. Everything was too much again. He looked down at this hand that was still wrapped. Still damaged from the time he let them take over his functions. He wanted to tell them not to do that again but all he could hear was them laughing and all the stupid taunts.

God, he wanted it to stop.

_Oh, and now look at this, this boy crying in the bathroom._

_Is it because of us? Or is it because you failed to take proper care of yourself?_

_Yup, it’s because he lost his voice! Oh no!_

He wondered what they were going to do this time. He waited. He couldn’t help but look at himself as he waited for whatever they were going to do. He saw the tear tracks down his face, the river still running. His blue eyes looked so broken. He let another ugly sob out, closing his eyes as he grabbed the sink tighter.

_Wow, so pathetic._

_I love the water works!_

_What are you going to do now that your voice is gone?_

_I bet you won’t get better before the show!_ If this voice could do jazz hands they would.

_I don’t know if crying is enough to fulfill us today._

_I don’t know either._

He cried harder as he felt his brain was going to explode on him, a headache forming swiftly. He then fell on his back, a thud following. His eyesight blurred a bit and a ringing began in his ears. He tried speaking again but nothing came out. All he was focused on was the sound of laughing inside his head. He felt so insane, the laughter too much. Too much to even process why it was happening.

After a while he heard this name being called as the door opened. His vision came back but it still wasn’t the best. His classmate pulled him from the floor so he was sitting against the wall.

"Break ended 10 minutes ago, where have you been?"

He didn't trust his voice so he just gestured to the space around him.

"You've been in here the whole time? Are you okay?"

He shook his head no, then pointed to his throat.

"Yeah, you lost your voice. Everyone saw..." the ginger haired boy trailed off. "Anyways, how about I get you home so you can get your voice better? That sound good?"

He hesitated, almost thinking about it. If he did the voices would fight about what to do. He nodded, already hearing the voices judging him. The other boy helped him up, him almost losing his balance. They both headed back to the choir room to get his stuff before leaving and also telling the director, who agreed that that would be best. He gathered his things, not bothering to say goodbye to anyone. The voices still stayed loud in his head- still talking about everything he was doing.

_Wow going home, huh?_

_You really went back to grab your stuff? We could just leave it here; we don’t need it_

_You’re lucky that someone came to the rescue when we were having fun._

"Ready?" The ginger haired boy caught his attention- breaking it away from the voices.

He nodded, following his classmate.

He got in the car, the car starting startled him- making him jump. The other boy noticed but didn't say anything. As the car started, some classical rock came on and neither of them seemed to mind. The other boy only turned down the volume because it was a bit loud. The ride was quiet, besides the radio. To him it was soothing- the voices seemed to not like it though, they talked about it a lot.

Soon they pulled up to his house. After the car had been parked, they sat for a couple of seconds. As he reached for the door the other boy spoke, "Have a safe night and make sure you get your voice better!"

He nodded, exiting the vehicle.

He walked up to his house, hearing the car and the other boy drive off. He sighed, opening the door and heading up to his room- not doing anything to help his voice besides popping in a cough drop. He went to bed after finishing the cough drop, calling it a day, or rather an afternoon. He wished that the voices would leave him alone to sleep but that was one of the worst times for their attack. He really couldn't do much, there wasn’t anything to focus on or think about. In fact, he couldn’t think of anything when the voices kept talking. So, he closed his eyes, listening to the voices torment him as he tried to fall asleep.

They kept their talking and arguing going- for the long hours of the night. And it kept him up, the only sort of sleep he was getting was his eyes being closed. He rolled over checking the time, it was early morning. He turned onto his back- staring at his white ceiling.

“I’m a pathetic scared boy who has no control of his mind,” He breathed, out his voice barely making a sound- knowing the voices would pick up on this, “I- I need to talk with someone. I need someone to trust with this.”

Talking with someone would have to wait- wait for tomorrow, or today. Wait for a few days or whenever he’s going to build up the courage to do so. So, he’ll wait- wait and deal with the voices torment, deal with the voices constant judgement of his behavior and character. To deal with the voices over and over again because maybe, just maybe, he deserves it.

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed it!
> 
>  
> 
> ~X


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